


cuddlewithme dot com

by Skyuni123



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Anger, Couch Cuddles, Depression, Dogs, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Recovery, Sadness, and then they get together, but there should be, cuddle therapy, there isn't a tag for that au where people call cuddle hotlines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8572363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: It rings once – twice – and she’s on the verge of hanging up, panic rising in her stomach when –
“Hello, this is cuddlewithme dot com, you’re speaking to Abby. How can I help you?” The woman’s voice is warm, comforting, and also somehow professional.
“Um –“ Erin doesn’t exactly know what to say. How does one say ‘I’m in need of someone comforting to talk to because I’ve had a shit week and I don’t know what to do anymore’?
She takes a deep breath and says exactly that. Minus the swearing.





	1. Chapter 1

Her phone is out and in her hand before she’s even really noticed.

The ad is simple, oddly calming, and printed on lilac paper. It reads _Cuddle With Me – the simple way to treat touch deprivation. Have you ever felt lonely and wished you could talk to someone who would genuinely listen? Do you suffer from stress, anxiety or depression? Call us today! We believe that every individual deserves to experience happiness – whether it’s through cuddling or conversing in an entirely platonic way._

Below the paragraph, and a picture of a couple looking blissful in each other’s presence, there’s a phone number and a web address.

 

Now, generally she wouldn’t.

Erin Gilbert is not one to disregard rationality, read lilac ads, or make phone calls to strange companies _;_ but times might have just changed.

Last week’s Erin Gilbert generally wouldn’t have locked herself in her apartment for three days, with too much wine and not enough company. Now, feeling slightly human again, she’d ventured out to buy some household essentials – food, toilet paper and the like – and stumbled upon the ad, peeling off a telephone pole, next to an advert for a metal concert and a notice about a missing dog.

It had all been Pete’s fault.  
Beautiful, terrible, talented, no-good Pete.

Fucking Pete.

He was an oxymoron in human form – inventor by day, showman by night. His world of glitz, glamour, and constant threat of explosions was one of which she wasn’t intimately familiar. It hadn’t mattered, though, because when she had met him, she had become part of his life.

Seven years of his life, in fact, at least until he’d informed her a week ago that he and his secretary were eloping to the West Coast to take advantage of new manufacturing facilities and sunshine.

‘New manufacturing facilities’? More like he had finally had enough of her.

It wasn’t like her to get so caught up over a breakup. A clichéd, raw breakup at that.  
Last week’s Erin Gilbert might have scoffed at the thought.

This week’s Erin Gilbert is battling a pounding headache and the abrupt realisation that she’s just wasted seven years of her life.

It’s… not so great.

 

She pauses, looking down at the phone in her hand. Is she really going to be this woman? The woman who calls a ‘cuddle hotline’ because she’s in a wreck over some guy? She unlocks the screen with a shaking hand, and her stomach drops to her toes almost immediately, because she’s realised what her home screen wallpaper is. It was taken just over a year ago, when she and Pete had gone to the Bahamas together. It’s of their legs entwined in front of a gorgeous sunset. It had felt right at the time.

She wonders if he was fucking the secretary back then too.

She adjusts her glasses, takes another look at the sign, and keys in the number.

Erin’s going to control something in her life this week, goddammit!

 

It rings once – twice – and she’s on the verge of hanging up, panic rising in her stomach when –

“Hello, this is cuddlewithme dot com, you’re speaking to Abby. How can I help you?” The woman’s voice is warm, comforting, and also somehow professional.

“Um –“ Erin doesn’t exactly know what to say. How does one say ‘I’m in need of someone comforting to talk to because I’ve had a shit week and I don’t know what to do anymore’?

She takes a deep breath and says exactly that. Minus the swearing.

“Oh honey.” The woman even sounds sympathetic. “There’s a lot of people feeling a bit rough this week after Tuesday. I understand. Can I ask you for some details and we can get this process moving along?”

“Y-yes...” Erin mumbles, taking a seat on a nearby park bench. Her legs feel a bit weak and she really hopes, not just for her sake, that she’s not going to have another panic attack.

At home, alone, fine (ish).

In public, while on the phone to a total stranger? Not nearly as fine.

“What’s your name?” Abby asks.

She focusses on the trees across the road from her. It’s fall, and some of them are beginning to shed their leaves, orange and brown specks floating towards her like a scene from a film. “Erin. Erin Gilbert.”

“Alright, Erin.” Abby continues, typing wildly, “Now, I don’t need an address from you at this moment, but I’d like a general location. This information won’t be shared with any third parties, and is only taken so I can find our people in your area.”

“Manhattan. Uh, Manhattan, New York.” A leaf lands on her shoe and she picks it up, turning it over in her hand. It’s dry and dead, a poignant representation of how she feels inside right about now.

“Manhattan…” Abby chatters away. She types some more, and it is incredibly audible over the phone. “Good. I’ve got quite a few ‘cuddlers’ out and about in Manhattan. Now, your first session is free to an hour. Further sessions afterwards are forty dollars an hour. They must remain totally platonic, and will not stray into any sexual territory while our ‘cuddlers’ are on the clock. Capische?”

“Yes.” A sudden gust of wind causes her to drop the leaf and it flutters away in the cool breeze. She pulls her shopping closer to herself and wishes she wore a scarf.

“Good, well I’ve got your phone number here, so I’ve created a profile for you.” Abby clicks a couple of times, “Now we can go about finding you a ‘cuddler’.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have a gender preference in mind?” Abby asks, “Some of our clients prefer a person of a specific gender, and others don’t care.”

“Woman. Definitely a woman.” She says, almost immediately. While she knows that most men aren’t complete dirtbags like Pete, she can’t even think of spending any sort of vaguely intimate time with one of them right now.

“Cool. A woman. We’ve got a few who are free for the next couple of weeks…” Abby trails off, “I keep on forgetting, sorry. When would you be wanting someone to come around?”

Erin hesitates. She’s not really thought that far ahead. “Uh, um – today? This evening perhaps? After sevenish?” Gives her a couple of hours to have dinner and clear up the wine bottles from around her place.

“Tonight?” Abby taps on the keyboard again, “You’re in luck. No hard decisions to make. There’s only one available woman left on our roster tonight. She’s a sweetheart, really, you’ll love her. She’s a total tonic if there’s anything bad going down in your life. I know that from experience. Give me your address, and I’ll sort everything out for 7.30 this eve. Is that all good with you?”

“Um… yes…?” Erin says, feeling slightly bemused. She tells the woman her address, really hoping she just hasn’t just fallen for a scam. The ad seemed legitimate enough, and it wasn’t like she was paying anything for the privilege. All she had to do was hope that things would go well later in the evening.

After a final tap on the keyboard, Abby says, “Good! That’s you sorted then, Erin. I’ll send her over tonight, and I hope you two have a nice time together. Thank you for calling cuddlewithme.”

And before Erin can say anything more, the line cuts off with an abrupt click.

 

She sits back and realises what she's just done.

She's just called a cuddle 'hotline', and requested to meet someone.

 

Shit. What has she become? Is this who she really is now?

She's almost ashamed.

 

Later, Erin's back at her apartment. She takes a few moments to clean the wine bottles off her furniture - vowing to never drink quite that much ever again - and straightens up the furnishings. Everything looks... clean. It's certainly not her best, but it doesn't look like she was crying herself to sleep a couple of days earlier - which is certainly something.

 

She settles down with her laptop to get some work done before the 'cuddler' appears; whoever she may be. Erin's taking a semester off to work on a book. She's a physicist, based out of one of the city's best university's - but she's working on a book on physics theory that she hopes will get her out of her rut. She needs to prove to herself that she can do things without relying on Pete, but the words just won't come.

 

Frustrated, she slams her laptop lid shut, and settles back in front of the television with a glass of wine. She's not an alcoholic, not really, but the faint buzz in her head is better than the alternative.


	2. The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, I've aged both of the characters down about fiveish/ten years because it works better for me. Erin's about thirty, Holtzy's about twenty-five. 
> 
> On with the story!

  
There's a knock on the door which startles her and she jumps, spilling wine all over one of her sleeves. Cursing under her breath, she tries to scramble for something to wipe it up with, but there's nothing in sight. She pulls her sleeve up to her elbow and hopes that the other woman won't smell it. 

  
Opening the door - after a quick cursory glance through the peephole - leaves her with the sight of a short blonde, hair tightly curled in a bun at the nape of her neck. She's dressed in loose pants, and a plaid shirt, and she looks good enough to eat.   
  


Erin's never really been one for blondes, but this blonde's got something about her.   
  


"Hey!" The blonde says, and holds out a hand. "I'm Holtzmann. Jill, if you're feeling fancy, but y'know, I prefer the surname over anything else." Her manner of speaking is oddly frenetic, as though she's in the midst of some sort of coffee rush.   
  


"Erin..." She says, slowly, accepting the handshake with more than a grain of salt. "I take it you're from-"   
  


"Cuddle with me dot com?" Holtzmann interrupts, grinning wildly. "Yeah. That's the one. I almost convinced Abby to change the name to something less-"   
  


"Weird?"   
  


"I was gonna go with 'invasive' but yours works." She says with a shrug, "But she overruled me. I don't know how, considering we each had one vote, but she managed. Could be worse, I suppose."   
  


"Um..." Erin blinks. And then blinks again. "Do you want to come in?"   
  


"That's what I'm here for." Holtzmann says, "For the record, this is a platonic setup only. No hanky panky allowed. I have to make you sign a waiver and such before we get down to it to stop that from happening, capische?"   
  


"Of course!" Erin says, feeling vaguely shell-shocked. She opens the door further and waves the blonde in. "Does that happen often?"   
  


"More than I'd like. It's usually dudes." Holtzmann says, very matter-of-factly, "I mean, I hate to tarnish their gender with that sorta brush, but it's usually the guys who try to go too far with things. It comes with the profession, I suppose." She brushes past Erin and stands, very obviously looking around her living room.   
  


"So, is this your only job?" Erin asks, shutting the door behind her. She wrings out her hands, oddly nervous considering that she is nothing more than a job to this woman.   
  


"Nah, I’m a grad student. Chemistry intern for C Corp. Something like that. That’s the one that pays the money.” 

 

"Then why -"

  
"I like people. A lot. There's nothing better than people -... at least like ninety percent of the time." She wrinkles her nose, "I'd spoon a lot of people, but I don't think I could with Donald Trump, no matter what he paid me."   
  


"I don't think you're an abnormality there." Erin says earnestly. "He's probably actually dead already. It'd be a bad time."   
  


"Yeah." Holtzmann indicates at her couch, which is behind the half empty wine bottle and her glass. "Shall we get this show on the road?"   
  


Erin nods, and leads the other woman towards the couch. She’s faintly embarrassed, but on a whole, this arrangement isn’t as weird as she thought. Holtzmann’s nice; a little more up-tempo than she was expecting, but still, nice enough.   
  


"Right, so." Holtzmann starts when they're both seated, "This is basically a contract to ensure that everything stays legal and above board, right? Nothing too far on the clock, so on and so forth."   
  


"Sounds like a good idea."   
  


"I mean, it does take out the possibility of taking things further if I really do like a client." Holtzmann winks at her, and the movement does bad things to the pit of Erin's stomach.   
  


"No dirty stuff on the clock, I take it?" She asks, voice holding steady despite the wavering she feels inside.   
  


"Yeah, well that'd be foolish."    
  


"Okay." Erin nods again, feeling slightly faint. "What else am I signing away?"

  
"Bodily rights, any pets you have..." Holtzmann chuckles. "For the record, that was a joke. I wouldn't steal pets."

  
Erin thinks of her dog, for the first time in two days, and her heart drops into her stomach. Marie, a small beagle, had been her best friend and her favourite companion. However, Pete  had had him when they had last spoken, and she doesn’t know if she’d ever get him back. 

 

“That’s good.” She says, and she’s horrified to find that her voice trembles when she says the words. 

  
Holtzmann gives her a piteous look that she’s pretty sure is supposed to say ‘oh, you are a piece of work, aren’t you’, and instead says, “How about you sign your name on the dotted line and then we have a chat?” She gets a piece of paper and a pen out of her backpack and places it in front of her.   
  


The contract is short and sweet and doesn’t say much more than what Holtzmann has already told her. She signs her name without her usual flourish.   
  


“Good.” Pulling a large patchwork quilt out of her bag, the other woman folds up the contract and places it back inside. “How do you want to go about this? What are your boundaries?”   
  


"Um..." She's hesitant to admit that she's never thought about it before.   
  


It's not too surprising considering she's only had one very specific person to share intimate contact with in the last ten years. She can't imagine spooning with someone else. Not now. Not yet. It's too much. She doesn't even know if she can 'cuddle' properly.    
  


"Look." Holtzmann says, looking thoughtful. "I have a simple one. Lie down, put your head in my lap, and I'll cover you in the blanket. It's barely any type of contact, so it's still comfortable. We can talk, or whatever you like."   
  


She's very offhand in the way she says such things. It reminds Erin that this arrangement is still just a job, no matter how it feels.   
  


"...Okay." Erin agrees, because at this point, what has she got to lose?   
  


"Sweet." Holtzmann drops her backpack on the floor. Shuffling back into the corner of the couch, she offers her lap up to lay on.   
  


Yes, it's weird. She's allowed to feel weird. She's only known this woman for about ten minutes at this point, anyway.   
  


"So I just -" Erin gestures in the vague direction of the other woman's lap.   
  


"Yep." Holtzmann pops the 'p', and starts to unfold the messy lump that is the patchwork blanket. It's multi-coloured, fraying in parts, and possibly the warmest looking thing she's ever seen.   
  


"Um... okay." Erin pulls her hair out of her ponytail for comfort reasons, and lays with her head up on the other woman's lap. It's a little bit weird, and she says so.   
  


"Don't worry." Holtzmann looks faintly amused, "It's what I'm here for. This is not nearly the weirdest way I've had a first encounter with someone, believe me."   
  


She tries to relax, but her thoughts aren't seeming to have much of an effect. Maybe it's the wine.   
  


Holtzmann shakes her head and says, "You need to calm down, Erin. You'll give yourself a hernia." As she throws the blanket over Erin's body, the brunette finds herself enveloped almost immediately in warmth. The blanket is just heavy enough so she feels supported, and smells faintly like mint.   
  


"It was my grandmother's." Holtzmann explains, "That's why it's so frayed and stuff, I guess."   
  


“It’s nice.” Erin says, because it is. She cranes her neck to look around at the rest of the blanket, noticing all the little holes within that only seem to add more character.   
  


“Cheers.” Holtzmann draws the blanket further up around her and tucks it in gently. She doesn’t even seem to realise that she’s doing it – her hands moving in an instinctual way. “So. Why’d you call us today? We don’t get rush calls very often, and definitely not a couple of hours before appointments.” Her words are rather clinical, but Erin can sense an undertone of sincerity within them. Perhaps it’s just because being empathic is this woman’s job, but she seems like she actually cares.   
  


Erin thinks. She doesn’t really know what to say. Is she supposed to open her heart to this complete stranger?   
  


“For the record, you can totally tell me to fuck off or whatever.” Holtzmann adds, “It’s just helpful. Yknow. I’m here to chat and such.”   
  


Erin thinks some more. At this point, it’s not like she’s got anything to lose. She sighs and says, “There was this man called P-...”   
  


It’s cathartic, when she’s finished. She doesn’t know when Holtzmann’s hands got in her hair, and started gently stroking, but it’s nice. Her movements are comforting and calm and Erin knows that she made the right choice in calling the woman to come to her home.    
  


“He sounds like an ass.” Holtzmann says, very bluntly.    
  


Erin blinks.   
  


“…Was that too much? Because, like I get it that you might still have feelings for him, but in my book, those sorta shenanigans are grounds for me taking the train straight to Nopesville. You don’t just leave someone like that.” Holtzmann says, fiercely, her hands carding faster through Erin’s hair.   
  


Erin doesn’t mind. She likes the faint pulling on her scalp.  “Not too much.” She says, with a sigh. “You’re right. Pete’s a complete ass.”    
  


“I try to be right.” Holtzmann says, very placidly. “It makes things easier. No kidding, though, you need to move past him. It’s a shitty situation, yeah, but you need to move on. Sue his ass and get your dog back though.”   
  


“I can’t sue him over a dog.”   
  


“You definitely can. I know someone. She knows all of the really obscure laws of the city and stuff – she got me my car back when it was towed after I accidently drove it into a tree one night. She saved my ass, and she’d definitely help save yours.”   
  


Erin blinks again, slower this time. “Um.”   
  


“I’ll give you her number before I leave. She’s a gem.”   
  


“Um…?”   
  


Holtzmann seems to notice her expression for the first time in minutes. “Sorry. Was that too much? Don’t mind me. You should definitely give Patty a call though. She’ll get your pup back.”   
  


“Maybe.” Erin sighs, feeling boneless and helpless at the same time. She doesn’t want to move, even though she knows she should. “I just don’t know any more.” She’s had one hell of a day.   
  
“Some guys are dicks. You don’t deserve to get your life ruined by this one.” Holtzmann taps her gently on her head. “For the record… It’s been an hour ten. I should go.” 

 

She sits up and glances at her. “Shit, do I owe you something? You should have said.” She scrambles next to the couch for her purse and thrusts a twenty at the younger woman. 

 

Holtzmann blinks. “Don’t worry. It’s your first time. You deserved to have someone listen to you” She smiles slowly and clambers from her perch on the couch. “It’s cool. You stay there, I’ll let myself out.”

 

“But-”

 

“Don’t worry.” Holtzmann says, very firmly. She pulls some paper out of her backpack and scribbles something on it. “This is Patty- Patricia’s number. Don’t call her that though. Patty will help you get your dog back.” She passes it over and Erin tucks it into the pouch of her hoodie.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I know it’s super comfortable, but can I have my blanket back? I’ll bring it next time, promise.” Holtzmann smirks, but there’s not any malice in it. 

  
“Oh yeah. C-course.” Erin stutters, scrabbling and handing the blanket over. The loss of the warmth is noticeable almost immediately and she really doesn’t want to let it go. “Thank you.”

 

“Call Patty. Get your dog back. Get that guy out of your life.” Holtzmann looks at her with an unreadable expression as she packs her blanket back into her bag. “You deserve better. I… I’ll see you next time.”

 

“Bye.”

 

After the door has clicked behind the younger woman, and Erin’s gone and locked it, she slumps back into the couch. She’s not felt so loose, so content, and so  _ fine _ in  _ years.  _

 

What the fuck has she gotten herself into?


	3. You Strike Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not Holtzmann standing on the other side of the door.
> 
> She should have checked the peephole before she'd opened it.

 

 

She decides to call Patricia the next morning. Maybe it’s not a good idea, but right now, it’s the only one she’s got. God help her if she’s taking advice from a professional cuddler, but her parents aren’t speaking to her (something something along the lines of “you shouldn’t have just let him go, honey.”), and most of her friends are friends with Pete.

 

Fucking Pete. 

Get fucked, Pete.

 

She doesn’t know what she’s done to deserve this, but she is  _ so  _ thankful that it is mid-semester break. At least she’d left this breakdown to an opportune time.

Tabbing through the screens on her phone, Erin types in the number and presses the call button. Who is this Patty person going to be? Is she going to be nice? Erin hopes so, but the situation doesn’t stop her from worrying, all the same.

 

“Sorry, Patty is out right now,” The woman at the other end of the phone says, “Can I take a message?” 

 

She leaves her name and number and wonders what she’s gotten herself into. 

 

Her head doesn’t feel great, but it’s time for her to get her act together. She’s not going to wallow. The college semester resumes in a week and she needs to pretend that she’s a stable adult. 

 

She doesn’t feel like one, but she’s not been feeling anything more than anger for the last couple of days now, anyway, so what can she do?

 

Fetching her wallet, she pulls on something that passes for casual (but not too casual) and decides to go for a walk. The fresh air will do her good. Or something.

 

Central Park is gorgeous in the sunny mid-spring day. Every time she takes a breath it feels good, like it’s healing her from the inside. The walk had been a good idea.  

 

It’s the walk past the dog park that really pains her. She’d come here with Pete in the morning most days, before her first classes, and they’d let Marie run free. There’s a lot of beagles in the park this morning, and there’s even one that has the same distinctive spots that Marie had, running up its legs.

 

In fact… oh God, it is Marie. She’d recognise that patchwork pattern anywhere.

 

There’s no way. She has to be seeing things. Pete is supposed to be on the West Coast, living life without her.

 

She stands at the edge of the park and calls, both hoping and not hoping it’ll be him. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if it is.  

 

But it is.

 

The recalcitrant dog comes bounding up to her at the speed of light, and she nearly collapses in shock. She doesn’t know where Pete is. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do.

 

“Marie!” She gasps, drops to her knees, and is resoundingly licked by the little dog. 

 

She checks the dog’s collar. It’s Marie.

Erin would know. She picked out the collar and nametag herself. 

 

Looking around, she can’t see Pete, or anyone she knows anywhere.

Oh, what the hell, this is easier than suing.

 

She picks up the little dog, who  _ doesn’t  _ struggle, and takes off back the way she came at a trot. She doesn’t run, because it’d be obvious if she did, but she does move quickly.

 

_ What is she doing? This (technically) could be illegal. _

 

Then again, Marie is  _ her  _ dog. She bought him. 

Surely, there’s some law that means that this isn’t technically stealing.

 

Erin rounds some trees and diverts down the path that leads back to her apartment. She’s puffing now - Marie is heavier than he looks - and she collapses onto a bench for a minute. Marie nips at her fingers and she drops him to the ground, but still manages to hold onto his collar.

 

_ What is she doing? This is madness. _

 

It’s her blurred vision that makes her realise that she’s crying. That’s one way to make her day worse. Marie climbs up onto the bench and into her lap but it doesn’t help. She’s a mess. She needs to be less of a mess.

 

A faint vibration from her pocket makes her gasp. It’s her phone ringing. Pulling it out, she prays it’s not Pete.  _ What could she say to him? What would make this right? _

 

It’s an unknown number, but that doesn’t change anything. Taking a deep breath, she answers. “Hello?”

Her voice shakes when she speaks. It’s obvious that she’s crying.

 

“Erin Gilbert?” It’s a voice she doesn’t recognise. “I’m Patty. Ya called my office?”

 

She’s never been so relieved in her entire life. “Hi Patty. Tell me, saying hypothetically I just stole my dog back from my ex without him knowing, could he have me sued for that?”

 

 

Later, when she’s been reassured by Patty that there’s not much Pete can do to her legally - considering Marie is registered under her name and all - she manages to stumble back to her apartment, stunned by her luck.

She can’t believe it. Perhaps the universe doesn’t have it in for her, after all. 

 

 

Maybe she can finally get her life back on track. Erin sits back in her den and decides to call the Cuddle Hotline. She might get Holtzmann again. She could thank her! 

 

And so, she calls them and books a session with Holtzmann at five that night. The operator this time is a man, called Kevin, and although he seems a little slow on the uptake, she manages to get through to him in the end. He sounds nice enough, although a little distractible.

She fixes herself some lunch and cleans her apartment. It’s hard these days - she never used to be a slob, but somehow, her life has been messy lately. She’s just not been able to find the energy to clean anymore and she doesn’t know why.

 

Marie settles on his dog bed and goes to sleep. Although he’s quiet, she’s thankful for his company. The gentle rise and fall of his chest in the corner of her eye is a reassurance. It feels… safe.  She feels safe with him around.

 

At 4.40, there’s a knock on her door.  _ Holtzmann’s early. _

 

She leaps to her feet, wondering why she’s so excited. She likes the other woman, yes, but this is ridiculous. Marie runs towards the door and scratches at it, so she scoops him up and opens the door with her other hand.

 

It’s not Holtzmann standing on the other side of the door, but her ex, Pete, and his new hot redheaded girlfriend.

 

_ She should have checked the peephole. _

 


	4. Pete and the Dog

“Erin.” Pete says calmly. Too calmly. “May we come in?”

 

She’s far from comfortable with that. “No.”

 

“Erin.” Pete is still calm. “We have things to discuss. I think you know that.” 

 

At his side, Jen is quiet. She’s short, red-haired, and gorgeous. They’d gotten on well before this. She gives her a beseeching look. Somehow, Erin doesn’t think she had much part in this intervention.

 

“Fine. Okay. Fine.” She lets the door fall open and steps back to let the pair in. She shuts the door behind them, not really wanting to, but not seeing another option. If she leaves the door open, Marie could get out. Marie’s the only thing she cares about right now.

 

Pete and Jen are seated on her couch when she walks in. 

 

She sits down opposite, and crosses her arms in front of her. “What do you want?”

 

“There’s no need for the hostility, Erin.” Pete says, clearly trying to placate her, but coming out sounding more cynical than anything.

 

“Don’t patronise me,  _ Peter. _ ” She huffs, “What do you want?”

 

“We just want our fair share.” Jen pipes up for the first time and Erin stares at her incredulously. 

 

“Your fair share? You’ve got your things. What’s the problem here?”

 

“I think you know what we’re talking about.” Pete says, with a pointed look at the dog bed in the corner, where Marie is (thankfully) still sleeping.

 

She grits her teeth, sits further forward and says, “No. He’s registered under my name, I paid his fees, he’s my dog. You have no legal claim over him. I won’t let you take him.”

 

“Erin-” Jen begins.

 

“No.” Erin says firmly. “He’s my dog.” 

 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to get a lawyer involved then.” Pete shrugs. “I’m sorry that you made me do this.”

 

“A lawyer?” She’s appalled. She loves Marie, but this is ridiculous. “You’re getting a fucking lawyer involved? You have  _ no  _ case against me. It’ll get thrown out.” 

 

“I think that you -” Pete begins, but then there’s another knock at the door. 

 

Erin’s going to pay Holtzmann double for this. She climbs to her feet, ignoring Pete’s shout of, “You can’t just ignore me, Erin!” from behind her.

 

She’s never been more pleased to see the other woman in her life. Thank goodness for small mercies. “Save me.” She whispers, just as Pete wanders out of the living room. “Ex.” 

 

“Who’s this?” Pete asks, without preamble.

 

Holtzmann’s expression morphs into one of careful consideration. “Her new girlfriend…” She says, slowly, holding out a hand. “Dr Jillian Holtzmann. Hi.” 

“Erin, I didn’t know you were a d-” 

 

“Bisexual?” Erin interrupts, not wanting that train of thought to go any further. She doesn’t know what Holtzmann’s doing but she’s got nothing she can do except go with it now. “Yeah. None of your business, really. Now, Holtzmann and I have things to  _ do,  _ so get out. Without my dog.” 

 

Pete eyes Holtzmann, who raises an eyebrow back at him. “I’m Pete. Her ex-partner.”

 

“Oh, so you’re  _ Pete.”  _ Holtzmann drawls, withdrawing the hand. “I’ve heard a lot. Nothing good.” 

 

“I can’t believe you found someone new in a week.” Pete says, almost incredulously. “After seven years?”

 

Holtzmann’s wearing really high combat boots, so she’s about an inch taller than him. She eyes him. If she wasn’t here, Erin is sure that the younger woman would batter him within an inch of his life.

 

“I can’t believe you cheated on me with someone after seven years, so I guess we’re both having revelations today.” Erin snarls, angrier than she’s been in days, and somehow also on the verge of tears. “Get out.”

 

“But -” Pete begins, but Erin crosses her arms. Holtzmann slings an arm around her, pulls her close and stares Pete down too. The hug is nice, but the moment isn’t.

 

“Fine.” Pete shrugs. “You two deserve each other. Jen?!”

 

Jen comes out of the living room, quiet as always, and looks back one more time. They eye each other and Erin feels a pang of regret for her. Jen doesn’t deserve this. Pete’s an ass, but Jen isn’t. This situation sucks. 

 

The pair leave without any goodbyes.

 

Erin doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. “I’m so sorry.” She says, shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t mean to bring you into this. I would have called but they ambushed me and I didn’t know what to do and I -”

 

“Stop.” Holtzmann holds a hand out to her and smiles gently. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

 

Her tears come then. It’s the release of tension that she’s been waiting for.

 

Holtzmann somehow manages to lead them both to the couch, fetch the giant blanket and unfold it over them - all without letting go of Erin’s hand. Marie wakes, rushes over and settles back down in her lap, without once barking at Holtzmann.

 

Erin hiccups, incredibly snotty and gross and says, “Are you actually a doctor?”

 

“Not yet.” Holtzmann replies. “Little white lie. Gotta submit my thesis first. But I will be.”

 

She doesn’t doubt it. 

  
  



	5. xx

“Oh god, you’re all wet.” Erin looks mortified at the giant wet patch her tears have left on Holtzmann’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I-”

 

“It’s fine.” Holtzmann soothes, and runs a hand along Erin’s back. “I’m used to it. No worries.”

 

She’d almost forgot that Holtzmann has other clients. The thought is… disconcerting. “Why are you being so nice to me?” She asks, and hiccups. 

 

“Because you don’t deserve this.” 

 

“But I-”

 

“No.” Holtzmann says earnestly, and tilts her chin up with one hand to look her dead in the eyes. “I’ve seen enough women go through this kind of shit. It might seem like a little thing now, but that sort of behaviour can get worse and worse. You’re lucky he’s given up now.”

 

“It’s not that bad.” She shrugs the hand away.

 

“It could have been.” 

 

Erin decides to drop it. She could have fended off Pete without Holtzmann’s help. She could have. She’s not a victim. 

 

They sit in silence for a few moments. Marie snuffles in his sleep. 

 

“So… aside from getting your pup back - I presume I’ll hear how you did that later - what else have you done today?” Holtzmann asks, curling her arms even more around her.

 

It’s nice.  _ Really  _ nice. 

 

“Cleaned. Adult things. Boring things. You know what I mean.” 

 

“I really,  _ really  _ don’t.” Holtzmann replies. “I’m still a student. My apartment’s a tip. Seriously. There’s mold growing on the mold.”

 

Erin snorts. “Gross. You’re a chemist, right? Surely there’s something you can do about that.”

 

Holtzmann gives her an appalled look. She’s pretty sure it’s just faux-shock though. “Not that sort of chemist, bud.”

 

“Oh, sorry. What do you do?”

 

“Nuclear chemist. I get to play with all the radioactive stuff.”

 

“No way.” She respected Holtzmann before, but _now…_ Wow. Impressive. That’s a job she’d never do. “You’re doing your thesis at the moment, right? Tell me about it.”

 

“You sure?” Holtzmann raises an eyebrow at her. “It’s pretty dense stuff.”

 

“I mean, I know a fair amount about science myself.” Erin points out gently.

 

“Oh yeah, of course, you’re a physicist, right? I get that, it’s just my thesis is dull as hell. All my colleagues doze off when I talk about it.”

 

“Try me.”

 

Holtzmann rolls her eyes. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. So. Thesis. Radiation therapy has been used in…”

 

Try as she might, though, she can’t help but fall asleep.

 

It’s the emotional day and the warm comforting blanket around her.

Not the thesis.

Not at all.

 

When she wakes up, she finds that Holtzmann’s blanket has been replaced with one of her own and there’s a note pinned to Marie’s collar. The dog is still dozing in her lap.

 

The note reads:

  
  


_ Told you so. Guess you’ll have to owe me one. ;) xx _

  
  
Erin stares. A winky face and  _ two  _ kisses? What on earth does  _ that  _ mean? 


	6. blood

It’s a start, at least. She’s not felt so buoyant in days, and actually manages to get some work done. She doesn’t  _ need  _ Holtzmann to get her through this, anymore, she’s managing just fine on her own. 

 

Pete keeps on sending her emails, though, just uncomfortable ones. She wonders why he doesn’t just jet off with his new lay and leave her alone, but apparently seven years is still seven years, even in the eyes of a complete asshole.

 

She’s writing up her syllabus for the new year one night when there’s a knock on the door. Marie starts yipping immediately, so she runs over to check it out.

 

Erin does check the peephole first, though. She’s not going to have to deal with Pete again. No way.

 

The sight beyond the peephole is perplexing, though. There’s no-one out there - or at least no-one she can see.

 

Only one way to go then.    
  


She puts the chain on the door then slowly pulls it open.

 

The sight in front of her is a shock to her system. Holtzman, slumped over and bleeding all over her floor.

 

“What the - Holtzmann!” She quickly releases the chain and pulls the door open the rest of the way. Marie rushes out and starts snuffling around the younger woman, but Erin pushes him away with her foot.

 

“Good dog.” Holtzmann says drowsily and reaches out towards him.

 

“What on earth happened to you?” Erin kneels down to her level and grasps her flailing hand with her own. “Talk to me, Holtzmann.”

 

“Got mugged. Kids ar... assholes.” She slumps over. “You… closest.”

 

Erin doesn’t take a moment to think about how good it is that Holtzmann’s coming to her for help. She doesn’t at all. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

 

“No!”

 

Damn. Guess she’s going to have to deal with this herself. “Can you walk?”

 

“Jus…’bout”

 

She takes that as an affirmative. “Come on then. Inside. I’ll take a look at you.” 

 

“Y’know doctor stuff?”

 

“All teachers have to take first aid courses. New rule. Come on.” 

 

Holtzmann grips her arm even tighter and allows Erin to lift her to her feet. They limp together to the couch and Erin lets her down again, calls Marie inside, and shuts the door. 

 

The rambunctious dog jumps onto the couch and settles down next to Holtzmann’s feet.    
  


“Where does it hurt?”

 

That question gets her a weak smile below unfocussed eyes. “Jus’ ‘bout ev’rywhere. Mainly cuts.”

 

“Okay. Don’t worry.” Erin instructs. “Pet the dog. He’ll look after you.” 

 

She doesn’t even think about calling an ambulance. If Holtzmann wanted one, she would have called one herself. She knows how much healthcare costs, knows a student wouldn’t want to shoulder that cost unless they’d absolutely have to, and she doesn’t want to scare Holtzmann even more. 

 

She’s got a first aid kit in her bathroom somewhere.

 

Holtzmann’s cuts aren’t much more than grazes, but they look like they hurt. She carefully flushes them all out with saline and puts plasters on the worst of them. She’s got a slash on her temple that’s bleeding a lot, but most head wounds do, so she cleans it up and covers it with a thicker bandage. 

 

“Anything else?” The way Holtzmann’s reacting seems to belie something far worse than just a few cuts.

 

“Kicked abou’ a bit.” She sighs, and then winces. “Ribs.” 

 

“Do you mind if I…?” Erin gestures vaguely in the direction of her midsection.

 

“Go ‘head.” 

 

She lifts up Holtzmann’s shirt gently, just a bit, to reveal a rash of dark bruises blossoming across the thin skin of her stomach. “Painful?”

 

Holtzmann nods and the grimace she makes at the movement is answer enough.

 

“I can’t do anything about those but they should go down soon enough. Does…” She knows it’s a dumb question before she asks it, but she asks it anyway, “does anything feel broken?”

 

The younger woman pauses, seems to consider. “Nah. Had broken ribs before… different.” 

 

“That’s good.” Erin eyes her warily. “If anything starts swelling, though, I’m calling an ambulance and I don’t care what you say.”

 

Holtzmann gives her a weak thumbs up and leans her head back against the couch. “S’rry for draggin’ you into this.”

 

“I was only working. Nothing important.”

 

Holtzmann giggles and then groans, obviously regretting it. “Sur’ thing. Thanks though.” 

 

“Is there anyone I can call for you or anything?” 

 

A sudden look of shock crosses the other woman’s face. “Yea- fuck- phone got taken- can you call Patty ‘n’ Abby?” She recites two numbers from memory. “They’ll get me outta here.” 

 

“What if I don’t want you out of here?” Erin says, before she can stop herself.

 

“Kinky…” Holtzmann drawls, and winks. “But seriously.”

 

“I’ll… just do that then.” Erin says, and flees.

  
  


After a conversation with Patty - which mostly consists of Erin telling her one sentence about Holtzmann’s condition, and then Patty demanding Erin’s address to come see her - she pops her head back into the living room and sees that Holtzmann’s fallen asleep with Marie on her feet.

 

“I guess it’s my time to shine...” Erin whispers, and drags in a blanket to cover them both.

 

The phone call to Abby goes much the same way. Both women seem very worried about Holtzmann and intend to rush over. Erin wishes she had friends who were that dedicated.

 

She sits down on a chair opposite Holtzmann, intending to watch over her until her friends arrive. The house is warm and so is her heart. 


	7. endings

There’s a knock on her door about twenty minutes later. Erin’s dozed off, but she wakes to the sound of Marie barking.

 

“Shh.” She huffs, grabbing the dog’s collar and dragging her away from the door. “You’ll wake up Holtzmann.” 

 

She checks the peephole to see two women - one tall and dark-skinned, the other shorter, with glasses, and more stocky - who look very worried. They must be Abby and Patty.

 

She unbolts the chain and opens the door. “I’m Erin. Hi.” She says, to their unspoken questions, “I take it you two are Abby and Patty?” 

“Abby.” The woman with glasses says.

“And I’m Patty.”

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances, after all you’ve done for me.” After hearing their voices, Erin is sure. Abby is the Abby from the agency, and Patty is the one who got Marie back. She’s incredibly grateful for everything they’ve done. 

“Yes, well, these things happen.” Abby says bruskly. “Where’s Holtzmann?”

“Of course.” Erin picks up Marie and gestures for the two women to come into her apartment. She gently closes the door behind them and then sets Marie free again. “Come on.” 

 

Leading the two women through her apartment is weird. Erin’s not a shut-in, by any means, but the only people who have been to her place for weeks are Holtzmann and Pete, both of which have very emotional memories attached to them.

 

She indicates at Holtzmann, still asleep on the couch. “There you go. I’ll… uh… leave you.”

 

They’re Holtzmann’s friends, she doesn’t want to get in the way no matter how much she feels for the younger woman. She’s got no desire to be a third wheel.

(Fourth wheel?)

So, she potters about the kitchen for a bit, cleaning things she’s been meaning to tidy since the beginning of her… grey mood… and isn’t interrupted for at least an hour. 

 

“Holtzy’s good.” Patty barges in just as she’s scrubbing a cup. “We’re gonna take her home.”

“Okay. Uh. Yes.” Erin scrambles for a word, very flagrantly ignoring the tiny part of her that’s screaming  _ don’t go  _ over and over. “Good idea.”

Patty pats her on the shoulder in a way that’s probably supposed to be reassuring. “She wanna see you before we go. C’mon.” 

 

Erin dutifully follows her out of the kitchen and sees Holtzmann awake, bleary-eyed, but sitting up on her couch. Abby’s hovering nearby, looking a mixture of concerned and anxious.  _ Definitely  _ the mom friend. 

 

“Alright you lot, buzz off for a moment.” Holtzmann says, hoarsely, and does shooing motions with her hands towards Patty and Abby. “Gimme a minute with Erin, okay?”

“But-” Abby starts.

“Abster, I’ll be fine, go on!”

 

Both of the other women huff, almost in unison, but head out of her front door anyway. Patty calls, “if you’re not out in five, I’m coming back in!”

 

Once the room has fallen silent, Holtzmann rolls her eyes. “They’re too protective. Honestly.”

“It must be good to have such support around you.”

“Mmmm, it gets a little overbearing at times, but ya know. Come sit down, Erin.” Holtzmann pats the unoccupied side of her couch with her free hand. 

 

Not entirely sure what she’s getting into, Erin takes a seat anyway. 

 

“Thanks. For this.” Holtzmann waves at the generic area of her person. “Appreciate it.”

“No problem. Honestly.” 

“The reason I was… uh… in the area was because I needed to come and tell you something and I didn’t think a text would be good enough.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Probably shouldn’t have done it at six on a Friday, but there we go.”

“I can honestly say I wasn’t doing much.” Erin replies, softly, wondering exactly what Holtzmann’s getting at. “What were you going to tell me?”

Holtzmann looks her dead in the eye and says, dully, “I can’t do this any more.”

“What?” Whatever Erin was expecting, it wasn’t that.   


“This cuddle thing. I can’t. Not with you. Sorry.” 

 

“But… why?” She’d thought they’d had something good going on. The cuddling thing was a little weird, truth be told, but they’d been talking. Holtzmann had dug her out of a terrible situation with Pete and Erin would be eternally grateful for that. “Have I done something?”

“You haven’t done anything.” Holtzmann fidgets with her hands, looking like she’d rather leap out the window and be anywhere other than here. “My.. uh… contract states that every client I take on has to be platonic in nature. It protects the company, y’know? And I… uh… I don’t feel platonic about you.”

 

“You don’t feel platonic about me.” Erin says, tonelessly. Could that mean - does that mean -

 

“If this makes you super uncomfortable or something, I’m really sorry, but yeah. Over our last five or sessions I’ve been feeling some things that… far more than platonic. I figured we should end this. For both of our sakes.” 

She  _ has?  _ It’s clear that this is something that Holtzmann’s been wanting to say for a while. “And this is going to be a problem?”

“Yeah.” Holtzmann stares out at the door, like she’s waiting for Patty to come in and rescue her.

 

Erin can’t help it. She laughs. 

 

Holtzmann stares at her, in agony.

 

She tempers her giggles down, manages to make herself seem vaguely normal again. “I’m sorry. Look. Do you think that’s going to be a problem for me?”

“How do you mean?” Holtzmann replies, slowly, like she’s trying to puzzle it out.

“You pulled me out from a really dark place in my life, don’t you think I’m grateful? I’ve been in a better state of mind for weeks now, don’t you think there’s a reason I’m still keeping you around?” 

“Do you mean…?”

 

“Yes, Holtzmann, I might actually feel something for you.” Erin teases.

“Oh thank  _ god _ .” Holtzmann groans, “Because I was about to do something really stupid and I’ve been worrying about this for like a week and it’s been really bad and I-”

 

“Holtzmann?”

“Yeah?”

 

“Shut up.” Erin replies, far too gently, and kisses her.

 

Things have ended worse.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end!
> 
> Thanks for watching, everybody!
> 
> As always, hit me up at my tumblr. :)

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on the [tumbs](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)  
> or the [twits](http://twitter.com/skyuni123)


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